


The Prince And the Clever Dog

by katajainen



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [25]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Transformation, Curses, Loneliness, M/M, No beta - provided as is, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 16:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13861395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/pseuds/katajainen
Summary: Or: a tale of how a hermit prince with a curse met a stray dog of uncommon cleverness, and what followed after.





	The Prince And the Clever Dog

**Author's Note:**

> Day 27 of the February Ficlet Challenge, prompt: Fairy Tale AU.
> 
> AKA: the one that ran away with me. I'm still typing out chapter 2.

Once upon a time, as they say, there lived a prince.

Now, if truth be told, he would have been a rather unremarkable prince, not even his father's heir, but the third in line after his sisters, except for one most unfortunate mishap of his childhood.

For prince Remus was cursed by a werewolf's bite.

Being of little cunning, the beast was caught in the act and swiftly put to death, and the young prince survived. The wounds were slow to heal, but after many long months in sickbed, the child recovered, and was left only with some stiffness on his left hand, and unsightly scars marring his face, chest and arms. Some might have said he had been lucky, to escape with his life and so little lasting injury.

But the prince himself felt not lucky at all, for while the werewolf was long dead, its parting curse would linger in his blood to torment him until he himself left this world, for as it is well known, a werewolf's bite carries its taint, and so the young prince Remus would now transform into a wolf's likeness at each full moon, and remain so for three nights and three days, during which time he would need to be forcibly restrained, lest he do injury to himself or others.

However, whether or not he himself thought so at the time, prince Remus was indeed uncommonly lucky. For he was still a prince, with all the privileges that went with it.

So it happened that his father the king caused to remove his unfortunate son to a royal castle in a remote part of the realm, with a full household to cater to his every need, all sworn to secrecy, down to the meanest scullery maid and stable boy. The castle had long served the royal household for a hunting retreat, which suited its new purpose well, for it was surrounded by a great, well-kept game park; now a large part of that was fenced off, first with wooden palisades, then, as the years passed, with high hedges of dark tall yew bushes, thick and dense enough to keep any four-legged beast out or in.

Time passed, as it does, and the prince grew into a bookish and reclusive young man. For three nights and days each month, he would run as a wolf in his forested enclosure, and hunt to his heart’s content. The rest of his time he would devote to the study of many enchantments and arts arcane, and these endeavours, taken together with his nearly hermit-like habits, won him a somewhat queer reputation. But for all the rumours and strange tales that were told of him, he was still the son of the king, and in time became much sought after for knowledge in the more esoteric mysteries, and corresponded widely in other scholars of such arts.

Now it happened that prince Remus came to be twenty years of age, and by the law of the land was considered to be a man grown and competent to manage his own household. Had the prince been as is the usual way of princes, and uncursed, this would have been the age when he would have started considering marriage, had his tastes run that way. As things stood, he began receiving letters from people unknown to him by other than name and their standing within the kingdom, to invite him to attend this or that ball or hunt or other diversion – because in spite of being third in line and a bit fey, he was still a prince, and there will always be people for whom such a title would outweigh all other considerations when contemplating marriage. But prince Remus answered all inquiries politely and declined each and every invitation.

In all, he gave every appearance of being content with his scholarly pursuits and having little interest towards matrimony. But that was only what he wished people to think: the truth was he believed no man or woman would wish to become his companion, once made aware of his curse, and it saddened him that it should be so, for as the sole master of his numerous servants the prince at times felt lonely. All the meaningful discussions he had he conducted via letters, and he had not a single friend to call his own. But by long habit of practice he pushed aside such feelings, for little good ever came from dwelling on them.

This state of matters could have gone on indefinitely, and perhaps the prince could have, in time, grown content with his solitary lot in life, but for one curious occurrence.

It was a rare thing for prince Remus to travel far from his castle, but for the occasion of his eldest sister's wedding he had made an exception. He headed home as soon as it was politely possible, but it was only three days to full moon when his party arrived to the village closest to the castle, and the urgency made him most nervous. That was when horse happened to throw a shoe. As the prince waited for his spare horse to be brought up, some movement at the side of the road caught his eye.

'Pay it no mind, my lord,' said his master of horse. 'It's but the mutt that has been trailing us since yestermorn. I reckon someone has been feeding it scraps.'

The prince considered the dog. Indeed, it looked hungry, and thin, but how thin, was hard to tell beneath the thick pelt of shaggy black fur. But its ears perked up as he approached it and its dark eyes were friendly and alert. In all, it had the look of someone's well-kept pet fallen on hard times. 'Let it come with us, then, and feed it properly,’ he said. ‘And put out a word in case someone is looking for it.'

The castle had not kept hounds since the prince had taken up residence, and the kennels had been made over to other use, so the prince took the dog to his own apartments. After suffering a bath with surprising grace, and devouring a bowl full of food, it lay down before the fire in the large anteroom and promptly fell asleep.

The prince watched it sleep and felt envy at such an untroubled rest, for he already felt uneasy in his own skin, with the moon still some days shy of full. But that was a minor discomfort he was long since resigned to, so he took to his bed early to have whatever rest he could. Come morning, however, he very nearly walked straight into the dog sitting right outside his room, its mouth open in an eager grin and its tail thumping at the floor.

'Taken to guarding my door, have you?' the prince asked, and the thumping intensified. The dog's enthusiasm lifted his own spirits a little, and he did not mind breaking his fast with a big shaggy creature that was nearly tall enough to rest its chin on the table. The dog accepted each scrap of bacon and bread with good grace, and patiently waited if more was forthcoming.

The prince had meant to spend the morning in his library, as was his habit, but the dog trailed after him, and he found it difficult to concentrate to the constant clicking sound of claws on stone floor as the dog wandered about the room and sniffed at each piece of furniture in turn.

The natural thing to do, one might even say the sensible thing to do, would have been to remove the dog from the library, maybe call a servant to take it outside, but the prince did neither of these things. Perhaps it was that he had been infected by the restlessness of the animal – and he did think it a curious thing that a creature that had rested so deeply and profoundly the night before now appeared unable to stay still – or perhaps he was only driven by the familiar unease of body and spirit that always haunted him on the full moon's approach. Be as it may, the prince abandoned his books and letters and followed the stray dog out to the castle grounds.

Unused to dogs, and fearful lest the animal, whom he already considered to be in his keeping, should run off and be lost, prince Remus led the great black dog to the fenced-off part of the game park. He had never walked there for leisure, but now, himself trailing after the dog in turn, he discovered it as if it was an unknown country. It was a crisp autumn day, and the air still held the metallic tang of frost from the night before, but sun was climbing steadily higher, warming everything it touched. The thick carpet of fallen leaves scrunched drily under his feet, releasing the earthly scent of mould and decay to waft up into his nose.

The dog seemed as curious in the forest as it had been in the castle, darting this way and that in the pathless dappled shadow beneath the great trees, but even if it sometimes disappeared into the undergrowth, it was always quick to return to the prince, almost as if it had already adopted him for its new master.

And the prince, he felt his spirits much lightened by a morning spent aimlessly wandering in the woods with a dog for company. Even his appetite, that was usually poor in the days leading up to the full moon, was much improved when he finally returned to the castle for dinner.

They continued in like manner for the next two days, the long walk of the morning followed by a leisurely afternoon in the library where the prince would study and the dog would nap at his feet, at times interrupting his train of thought by chasing imaginary prey in its sleep. In spite of the disturbance, the prince found the company most pleasurable.

Then came the hour before moonrise on the second day. The prince prepared to leave, as he did each month, as he had done each month for over a decade. He dressed plainly and simply, for he would not wear clothes for long, and went to the door. And stopped.

'No,' he said to the dog. 'You cannot come with me this time.' For the great black beast had followed him, its tail wagging cheerfully, as happy to leave for a long stroll at dusk as it was at dawn. Now, it quickly sat back on its haunches with a dejected mien, looking for all the world as if it had understood his every word. It let out a single piteous whine, but the prince only shook his head and left the room, his heart heavy of a sudden with a despair he had believed himself long since free from.

He left orders to not let the dog further than the enclosed courtyard of the castle in his absence, and went out into the grounds, walking briskly in the gathering gloom. He told himself this was for the dog’s own safety, but in part it was also to reassure himself it would not run off.

The prince had closed the single gate in the fence from the inside, stripped off each of his garments, and was standing in the chill blue-tinged twilight beneath the trees clad only in the skin of his birth, watching the first sliver of the full moon rise over the horizon when he heard it. From the castle issued a lone keening howl: it started low, gaining in pitch before ending in a single vibrating note that resonated deep within his bones. He hung his head in regret as the first strands of moonlight filtered through the near-leafless branches, calling forth from within him the inevitability of his transformation.

Long agonizing moments later he heard the call again, this time with ears far better attuned to the changes of tone and melody, and from his nose to the tip of his tail, prince Remus shivered with the longing of the wolf.


End file.
